


Captivity

by vogue91



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 04, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 14:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14022690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: She remembered how she had gotten every single scar.She remembered the texture of the knives on her skin, she remembered the sound of the whips against her flesh, and she also remembered the features of each single man that had hurt her, some of them friends, some foes, until every distinction had disappeared from her mind, and she had started trusting herself only.





	Captivity

She didn’t like to show herself like that, at all.

Not that she felt any shame about her body, she just didn’t like have judging eyes on her, wondering what the hell had happened to her.

Even less she liked the fact that it was _her_ staring like that, but she knew that among them all perhaps she could’ve understand better the twisted pattern of scars on her skin.

She was starting to feel cold without her shirt on, and she didn’t know if it was actually for the temperature – after all, how cold could L.A. be? – or if it was really for the presence of those inquisitive eyes, if it was because she felt like she owed an explanation, when she knew perfectly that it wasn’t necessary nor owed.

Whatever the cause, she just wanted the good doctor to deal with her, so that they could keep doing their job with no skeletons in their closets.

“Do you really believe I’m like you?” Sara asked her, and Gretchen heard the mockery in her voice.

“I’d like to think that. But if you truly were we wouldn’t  be here, would we? You would’ve taken your pound of flesh and things would have been even between us.” she answered, turning to face her, an eyebrow raised and her lips twisted in a smile. “What’s keeping you? Do you feel pity for me?” she laughed. “Don’t. Not any more than I’ve felt for you, trust me. We’re in war, Sara, and you’ve got to learn how to fight if you want to survive.”

The other woman got closer, slowly, doing as to bring a hand to her back, and then changed her mind.

“That’s how you’ve got those?” she asked, distracted. “In war?”

Gretchen laughed again, no matter how little she felt like it.

She remembered how she had gotten every single scar.

She remembered the texture of the knives on her skin, she remembered the sound of the whips against her flesh, and she also remembered the features of each single man that had hurt her, some of them friends, some foes, until every distinction had disappeared from her mind, and she had started trusting herself only.

None of them had survived, just her, and it was how it was supposed to be.

She had put out there too much of her existence to have granted the luxury of death.

“I’ve got a scar for any betrayal I’ve endured, Sara.” she explained then, revealing nothing, without feeling like laughing anymore.

She clenched her teeth, looking at her in the eyes, and still wondering what she was thinking about.

It was easier when the doctor was her hostage.

It was easier to control those accusing eyes when they were masked in fear.

She wasn’t afraid of her judgement, but was annoyed by what she felt when she was with the doctor, was bothered by the apparent lack of control over herself, that control for which she had given blood, skin, flesh.

“So, what do you mean with that? That we’ve endured the same things so I have to start feeling empathy toward you?” Sara asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not willing to hurt you, but it doesn’t mean I don’t hate you for what you’ve done to me.”

Gretchen laughed, and this was fake as well, still deeply bothered by Sara’s obtuse attitude.

“I really wish, truly, that we would’ve had the same experiences. Unfortunately for me, what I’ve done to you were caresses, doctor.” she pointed out, taking a step forward, her face a few inches from Sara’s. “You shouldn’t speak when you have no idea of what you’re talking about.”

When she sent her with her back to the wall and kissed her, Sara didn’t react.

Gretchen was surprised, but not enough to stop.

She would’ve liked to meet some resistance on her part. It was the pleasure of the hunt and the persuasion that made it all more interesting, but if her nice doctor had decided to give her neither, her ego would’ve been content with the fact that Sara seemed to want it, that she had desired this just like Gretchen had.

She put her hands on Sara’s hips, caressing her skin over the shirt, going higher, until Sara stopped her.

Gretchen pulled back, smiling victoriously, while the doctor took slowly off her shirt, letting it fall on the floor and turning, letting the spy see her back.

“You remember, don’t you?” she said, a spiteful whisper.

Gretchen shrugged, getting closer and tracing with her fingertips the contour of every scar.

“I remember you have the marks of my betrayal on you since before there was something to betray, Sara.” she chuckled, shaking her head. “It’ll be better for you to let the mask fall, doc. Don’t pretend you want to make me regret something, when the only reason why you’ve come here is that you couldn’t help it.” she provoked, picking the shirt off the floor and putting it on the bed, as to signal that it still wasn’t time to wear it again.

Sara turned to face her, hiding the scars from her sight, frowning.

“Between the two of us, I really didn’t think I was the one wearing a mask.”

“Then why are you here, Sara? You don’t want to pay me back for what I’ve done to you, you don’t want revenge and I don’t think you’re that eager to talk. Then, what do you want from me? Why did you come here and let me...” she paused, smiling. She liked the confusion on the doctor’s face, she liked seeing her thinking about those questions, knowing she didn’t have an answer for them.

Gretchen had never been a particularly patient person, but she felt like she could waste her time, in that moment, in that motel room, trying to understand what was going on inside Sara Tancredi’s mind.

She had nothing else to do, anyway.

“Revenge would truly make me like you, no matter how we’ve gotten those scars. And it’s the only thing in the world I want.” she said, almost rushing it, as if she was afraid of spilling something she was trying to hide.

Gretchen smiled wider, got closer again and pinned Sara’s arms to the wall.

“Then, when we take away the revenge factor that neither of us care for, what’s left?”

She brushed her throat with her lips, to let the doctor feel her breath against the skin.

“You don’t wear a mask and I don’t either. I’m Gretchen and you’re Sara, let’s pretend we’ve got no past at all and resume from where we have stopped, how about that?”

She knew Sara wasn’t going to answer, that she was never going to openly admit she wanted this.

But Gretchen didn’t need her answer; she only needed for her not to oppose, and once again she didn’t.

She kissed her again, more heated than before, giving herself time to taste her mouth, to caress her hips and higher, to press her body against hers, feeling her struggling to get away from that grip, while she was actually pushing herself against her.

Gretchen couldn’t say how long it had been; a few minutes, probably, before she pulled away, smiling.

“Is there something you want to say?” she asked, deliberately malicious, while Sara kept quiet, her breath short and her face more confused than she had been before.

And for Gretchen that confusion would suffice; she shook her head, as to say that she didn’t care for an answer, not anymore.

She took the shirt from the bed and threw it to her, then took her own and got dressed.

She didn’t turn again to face Sara, because she had no intention to show her the expression on her face, she didn’t want to show her disappointment.

Not then, at least.

“You can go, if you wish.” she said, her voice neutral. “I don’t think we’ve got much more to say, until you refuse to admit why you came here.”

She heard steps behind her, and classified them as hesitant, uncertain.

“I’ve come here because I wanted to understand what’s going on in your mind. What brought you to do what you’ve done to me and then ask me to take revenge on your skin as if it’s something completely natural.” Sara sighed, reaching her and this time it was here tracing her scars over the thin layer of fabric covering them.

Gretchen laughed, more bitter than she would’ve liked.

“It’s work, Sara. I know you know that, and I also know you can’t come to terms with the fact that I’ve done it just for work, but that’s how it his. Get it through your thick skull, I’m a mercenary and nothing more. I didn’t like nor I disliked having you as a hostage.” she turned to face her, this time certain of the mask hiding her features.

She caressed her face almost tenderly, shaking her head.

“But I’m sure that you don’t offer your back and a belt to all those you’ve worked with to play with it, do you?” it was Sara’s turn to smile, while she moved away her hand. “I’m not the only one with a secret, I believe.”

Gretchen wished she could’ve told her.

She would’ve liked to tear the veil off of that horrifying adulteration of reality where they were, she wished she could’ve told her how attracted from her she was and how much she had desired her when she held her prisoner.

She wished she could’ve told her how bad that desire had made her feel, and how worse having to resist to it, but she knew she couldn’t.

She kissed her one more time, a split second, before going to the door and gesturing her to get out.

“When this is all going to be over, we will have been worm food for a long time, Sara.” she said, smiling. “But in the remote chance that your little genius and the Beagle Boys manage to get us both out unscathed...” she shrugged. “Perhaps then you’ll tell me why you’ve been here today. And I’ll tell you why I called.”

“I’m counting on it.” Sara whispered, no hostility left in her voice, then left that squalid motel room without another word.

Gretchen closed the door behind her back, relieved, and went laying down on the bed, closing her eyes.

She was so damn tired of all this.

Tired of having to lie, tired to run, tired or looking for alliances where everybody wanted her head on a platter.

She would’ve liked to take her gun and go looking for each one of them, kill them all and then stop running, enjoying her owed prize.

Sara and her, they weren’t going to come out of this alive.

Not both of them, at least.

But if the fate had this wish, not even then she would’ve told the truth as to what she had desired, on what a few seconds ago she had let go, without a chance to have it back.

She was a mercenary after all, and she was never going to change.

Sara Tancredi would’ve always been just work her.


End file.
